


The Observer

by reen212000



Category: SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Gen, Taemin knows all, Taemin knows best, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 12:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reen212000/pseuds/reen212000
Summary: Taemin knows.





	The Observer

**Author's Note:**

> I swore I would never write a bandfic. It's hard to resist when your OTP is cannon. Thank you TaeTen for existing. 
> 
> I blame Tamara, and those amazing SuperM trailers. Taemin is the master controller. He will get you. And you will love it.
> 
> Unbeta'd of course. Enjoy.

The Observer

Lee Taemin wandered the new house aimlessly, peeking into darkened rooms. It was very late at night; he never slept the first night in a new place. Pausing now and again at a table of impersonal knickknacks _(tchotchke, what a funny word)_, or manufactured art, Taemin began to memorize every inch of the house.

Stopping at a large window, he observed the darkness outside, smiling fondly, unsure if it was his distorted reflection or the moonless night that amused him more. 

“No rest for the wicked,” he whispered.

Continuing his journey around the first floor, he paused hearing a sound. A whisper of fabric against fabric. A flash of white moved across the dark main room, gliding purposefully toward the practice room. Intrigued, Taemin followed; he was suddenly fascinated by the fact that someone else was able to maneuver in the dark.

The practice room was a large space, with two doors at either end. Taemin slipped soundlessly into the room via the second door. A chair was stationed near the door; Taemin had placed it there himself to unobtrusively observe his groupmates and other dancers.

On the far wall, a light barely lit the space. Taemin wasn’t worried about being seen by the slight figure in white as they knelt down to fiddle with a device. The person’s face was illuminated by the phone he held, revealing his identity.

“Ah. Taeyong,” Taemin whispered, knowing what was going to happen. He’d heard rumors, saw the pictures, observed the man himself during the photo shoots and interviews. After such a grueling day, Taemin knew the only way for Taeyong to calm down would be through dance. Dancing until he literally collapsed. 

Taemin decided not to interfere, not yet; it wasn’t his place. The designated keeper of Taeyong was clearly Ten, and Taemin wasn’t going to cross any lines unless this got out of hand. Super M needed to succeed, they all knew that.

Finally deciding on a song, Taeyong stretched his lanky body, loosening stiff muscles. The song was unfamiliar to Taemin; he made a mental note to inquire about it in the morning. After a few half-hearted attempts at dance steps, Taeyong reset himself, effortlessly gliding into a routine.

Taemin watched from his perch in the corner, fascinated and sad at the same time. The song didn’t help to lift the melancholy that settled over the room. Tilting his head, Taemin crossed his legs and hands folded in his lap. Waiting.

Taeyong rose up on his tip toes, arching his back, hands reaching up as if he could take off into the sky. But he suddenly collapsed, exhausted body failing him. Less than gracefully, he rose and reset, trying again. After the third time, Taeyong slapped his hand against the floor in frustration, only to rise once more.

Watching quietly, Taemin uncoiled, leaning forward. In his daily observations of his group members, he noticed little things. How much each of them ate, drank, and rested. He knew Taeyong’s reputation of being a perfectionist; Taemin was certain that trait began with Lee Taeyong himself, then to other dancers. But right now, Taemin observed his prized acquisition wearing himself out before they really began.

But he waited. Something was about to happen; he could feel it.

The main door opened slowly, quietly. Taemin couldn’t see who was standing there, but he didn’t have to. Stepping around the door and closing it, Ten took a moment to collect himself. With a roll of his shoulders, and a deep breath, he made his way to the center of the room. He watched the object of his affection swaying on his feet, and not in a good way. Placing hands on hips, Ten came to stand behind Taeyong, their eyes catching in the mirror.

Taemin knew there would be a frown creasing Ten’s ethereal face; he always frowned at Taeyong when observing him closely. As Taeyong turned around, Ten stepped away. He turned on his heel and abruptly left the room.

Taeyong’s shoulders immediately dropped, hands hanging loosely at his sides, head down in defeat and disappointment. He suddenly became an explosive blur of movement, throwing the hat he was wearing to the floor, moving with the music that suddenly swelled. 

Taemin felt that moment in his bones and it took his breath away. Anger, disappointment, sadness and loss… It was all there as Taeyong threw himself around the room. Still Taemin waited, knowing this would resolve itself soon. Leaning back, he steepled his fingers. “This should be interesting.”

A moment later, the door opened again. Ten stood with a tray carrying two large mugs and a small plate of sliced fruit. Setting the tray on the floor, Ten moved soundlessly to reclaim his position behind Taeyong. This time, he slid an arm around the other man’s waist, drawing them closer, close enough to offer support. The next song came on, they shared a smile.

Taemin watched as they moved in unison, gliding around the center of the room, moving through familiar routines, and laughing occasionally. Taeyong leaned back more and more into the embrace until Ten had an armful of Lee Taeyong, sweaty and quivering with exhaustion.

Ten led them back to where he placed the tray, quietly scolding his friend for letting this happen. Taemin heard a note of guilt in Ten’s low voice as he pulled Taeyong down with him to sit on the floor. He positioned his friend between his legs, snagging a mug from the tray. Holding the mug of water up to Taeyong’s lips, Ten batted away trembling hands, ordering his friend to drink. Ten made certain Lee Taeyong knew he was being taken care of tonight. Once the water was gone, Ten switched the empty mug for a full one, taking a sip before handing it over to Taeyong. He placed a slice of apple in Taeyong’s mouth instructing to eat with a swat on his knee. 

Taemin observed this with amusement. Now all he had to worry about were the younger members, but he had a feeling his worry was for naught. He continued to watch the two men talk about their day, Ten running a soothing hand through Taeyong’s hair, or up and down an arm. This seemed to be his way of calming Taeyong further, giving assurance that he wasn’t alone.

Placing his head in his hand, Taemin felt the tension dissipate, allowing the calm to settle over his body. He knew he could relate better to his group members, knowing someone could offset Taeyong’s intensity with a simple touch.

Yes, Super M would kill it on stage, and they _would_ succeed. This was a new adventure and Taemin would meet the challenge head on.

Ten unwrapped himself, rising with envious grace. He held out a hand pulling Taeyong up; they stood nearly eye to eye saying nothing. Running a hand down Taeyong’s arm again, Ten smiled sweetly, then bent to collect the tray. Once balanced, he grabbed Taeyong’s hand, pulling toward the door. They left quietly, hand in hand.

“They even walk in unison,” Taemin sighed. He stayed in the room a few minutes longer, thinking over what he’d just observed. 

Rising, he left the room, lyrics to his next song forming in his head.


End file.
